Chapter 861 - 860: I Want You—It Depends on Whether I Want To, or Not

Why do I say ’biting the bullet’? Because he truly had no idea what kind of melodramatic plot awaited him.

Moreover, the only thing he was certain about was—he most likely wouldn’t be able to handle Mu Qiu’s performance later.

The door was pushed open.

Mu Qiu huddled in the corner motionless, listening to the footsteps growing closer, until a pair of black shoes appeared before her.

Then came the hem of a black garment trailing on the ground, and the newcomer crouched down.

"Qiuqiu."

Cheng Zhirang lifted his hand to brush away her hair, easily raising her chin with two fingers, revealing her tear-streaked face.

They were real tears, that much was evident at a glance.

His movements were somewhat stiff as he faced her tear-stained face, any thoughts related to the storyline vanished like receding tides from his mind.

Then Mu Qiu blinked at him and continued to cry.

Silently shedding tears, stubbornly turning her head to the side.

Some say that actors who have never received systematic training generally have performances that fall into two extreme categories—either very exaggerated, or in stark contrast to that style, the latter mostly due to performers referencing their actual life, subconsciously placing themselves into their roles.

His rationality returned, Cheng Zhirang rubbed the tear on her cheek with his fingertip, asking softly, "Why are you crying? Didn’t you say you no longer love me? Why cry?"

"Stop indulging in wishful thinking," she coldly retorted with a sobbing tone, "I’m merely feeling sympathetic for similar beings."

"There’s no need for that, you’ll never be like him. He is a woman married away from the Bai Family, and you will eventually become the mistress of the Eastern Palace."

Mu Qiu screamed internally, "Brother Cheng is so dominant," but outwardly, she sneered coldly, "I’m not the Crown Princess Consort of the Zhang Family, besides, how can the mistress of the Eastern Palace possibly be a woman married into the Huainan Royal Mansion."

Cheng Zhirang’s expression turned grim, but he did not exhibit the expected anger: "You don’t need to provoke me; I’ve already said, wanting you only depends on whether I want or don’t want, whether you marry someone or not is irrelevant to me."

He paused, looking directly into her eyes and added: "I don’t possess much integrity or honor."

"......"

So, so damned charming.

Mu Qiu struggled to maintain her character, quickly responding: "You lack honor, but I have it. Ultimately, how long do you intend to keep me here? Aren’t you afraid the Huainan Royal Mansion will write a memorial against you?"

"As you like, if they can even find you here."

Cheng Zhirang stood up, pondered for a bit, and decided to use that divorce letter he had temporarily thought up.

"It’s hard to say if they’ll write a memorial against me, but yesterday the Huainan Royal Mansion did send me something."

"What, to congratulate your resurgence? To curry favor with you?"

This was also a plot point.

Cheng Zhirang nodded along: "Mm, you’re right, maybe it’s to curry favor. After all, now there’s nothing that could make me happier than your divorce letter, and you know, I’ve loathed that Prince Huainan for quite some time."

Mu Qiu paused.

Now that a divorce letter had appeared, should she "accidentally" discover Shi Yuhuai in the small dark room too?

She clenched her fist halfway, staring at him incredulously: "A divorce letter?! Why?! Shi......"

"It’s best not to mention his name," Cheng Zhirang’s tone was cold, "I dislike it greatly."

Not liking it was just great! She immediately shouted Shi Yuhuai’s name.

"Shi Yuhuai cannot possibly write a divorce letter for me! We agreed..."

"I also hate hearing you refer to you and him as ’we’, only you and I can be ’we’."

Cheng Zhirang’s tone was noticeably suppressed, with icy frost spreading across his face, intimidatingly fierce.

Yet, this wasn’t her concern, it was those lines he delivered.

The words seemed familiar—weren’t they exactly what she had warned Lin Huanyue earlier?

Were those words really that stylishly cool when spoken aloud? There was an urge to give a beating.

She hesitated, thought for a bit, and still avoided those two words, only saying she didn’t believe a divorce letter existed.

Cheng Zhirang: "Your disbelief is irrelevant, you’ll see that letter tomorrow. I’ve advised you, best to cut off the thought of remaining the mistress of the Huainan Royal Mansion. He is nothing but a cowardly, incapable hypocrite, what is there about him to like?"

"I forbid you to talk about him like that!"

Cheng Zhirang sharply dragged her up, incarcerating her in his arms, leaning in maliciously whispering by her ear:

"I insist, on talking about him this way. He’s just a coward, defeated by me! Even knowing you were taken by me and hidden in the Eastern Palace, he doesn’t dare to utter a word, not even considering to rescue you! Isn’t such a person a coward?"

Mu Qiu had been hunched for quite a while, suddenly being yanked up left her legs numb, with a mosaic of electricity buzzing below her thighs, causing her tears to stream down instantly.

Cheng Zhirang was somewhat surprised, not expecting her crying act to be quite effective, tears flowing effortlessly.

Yet crying like this, isn’t because she was distressed by her husband being insulted, rather it’s clearly a sign enticing him to continue abusing.

He scrutinized her wearing traditional attire, then abruptly pulled open the outer garment, if her shoulders weren’t narrow causing the garment to slide down a bit, this piece of clothing might have ripped open.

Mu Qiu’s eyelid twitched intensely, failing to push him away in time, as Cheng Zhirang forced himself closer again, his hot breath sprayed at the nape of her neck, making her toes involuntarily curl.

She slightly stunned looked up, encountering that camera’s gaze again.

Assault, assault, assault assault assault assault!!!

Cheng Zhirang gestured to the photographer with a hand hanging on one side, indicating he could leave.

The photographer wasn’t sure if he was finding an excuse to benefit himself under the program’s guise or genuinely progressing the storyline.

After considerate thought, the photographer decided to leave eventually.

Believing Cheng Zhirang wasn’t so unprincipled.

Sure enough, less than a minute after the photographer left, Cheng Zhirang followed suit.

Turning around to close the door, then tidily arranging his garments with satisfied expression, called a servant in the yard, then headed towards the small dark room.

Mu Qiu nestled inside the room, watching through the window’s gap, realizing an actor is truly a remarkable profession—without even kissing, yet portraying an ambiguous "we’ve been entangled all night" impression post leaving.

If this were reality, Shi Yuhuai’s character may have already been infuriated to the point of coughing blood.

Inside the small dark room.

Shi Yuhuai had already received the notice, hid away half-eaten cucumber-flavored chips, continuing to maintain kneeling posture with his upper body suspended.

Cheng Zhirang’s expression remained unchanged amidst his chewing sound, sitting caringly in the grand master chair as if greeting, saying:

"Good morning. Heard you haven’t slept all along? Then perfect, did you hear the noise outside?"

Shi Yuhuai was still pondering what noise it was when he heard him continue:

"Although she felt embarrassed, such matters like sharing bed, akin to pleasure between fish and water, inevitably lose control. No need for jealousy, if one day I’m in good spirits, I might bring our child in to show you."